


Red Alert

by fEl24601



Series: Ruby Red [3]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fEl24601/pseuds/fEl24601
Summary: Set 6 years after Red-Letter Days.A glimpse into a weekend during Ruby Snow-Pitch's seventh year at Watford.Sometimes, history repeats itself.





	Red Alert

BAZ

 

It took until her seventh year at Watford for my daughter to wind up in my class. That was fine— she, Mitali, and I all thought that it would make sense to stay clear of that situation when possible. But the time had come, and it made me smile every day to see Snow-Pitch comma Ruby on my roster. I was true to my word from all those years ago. I would by no means show preference or coddle or favour Ruby because she was my child. Likewise, she would be just as diligent and studious as she would in any other professor’s class (which is to say _extremely.)_

I had known since she was small that Ruby was intelligent, and as she grew she developed a drive for education and a desire to succeed. That worried me, for a while. I had eventually realized that at least a part of my own need to be top of the class was due to my family, my name, and the expectations that came with both. I didn’t want Ruby to feel that way. Similarly, she spent the first five years of her life in an orphanage. Simon and I were well aware of the lasting impacts of the experience, particularly when it came to self efficacy. (I _love_ parenting books. Crowley, psychology can explain _everything.)_

I hoped it was just Ruby’s own personality that led her to her devotion to school. Regardless, she was the top of many of her classes, mine included (Mitali checked in frequently to ensure that I wasn’t inflating Ruby’s grades, as though my daughter wasn’t just hard-working and more than a little brilliant.)

Which is why that day in November was so odd.

In class, Ruby usually had an all-too-familiar determined glint in her eye, hell-bent on conquering whatever spell or skill we were learning as quickly as possible. Other professors often remarked that there was no doubt she was a Pitch whenever she was focused on accomplishing something. (Unlike me, however, once she was successful she quieted right down, turning to help others to the same. The Snow in her shied away from showing off.)

On that November Friday I had the class picking apart Shakespeare, piecing together meaning from the text so that they might be able to use the spells within. Ruby should have been all over it. Her group was looking at As You Like It, which I specifically gave them because I thought Ruby would enjoy it. (A somewhat more troublesome group was slogging through Henry IV part II.) (I never claimed to be a perfect professor.) But she was leaning on her elbows, staring blankly at the pages without reading. I watched as one of her group mates— her roommate, Nadia— nudged her gently, muttering something with a furrowed brow. Ruby gave a little smile and nodded, straightening up and making an effort to engage with the task. A few minutes later she had zoned out again, reminding me distinctly of Simon back in our Watford days.

It wasn’t that I expected her to be perfectly alert and engaged every single day. She was seventeen, and had a life. But this was so uncharacteristic it gave me pause.

I beckoned her over when I dismissed the class. I stood by my desk at the front of the room, wishing the students a good weekend as they headed to the door. Ruby waited until everyone else had gone before hopping up to sit on my desk, hands gripping the edge and feet swinging idly.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” I said, and she cocked an eyebrow at me. “You seemed a little off today. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

She nodded, quick, with a little smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

I looked her over, searching for a sign that something was wrong. But she looked all right, just tired as she said. I thought of all the things I had been feeling in the fall of my seventh year and hoped that she wasn’t bottling up half as much.

“Have you fed lately?” I asked. I got fatigued when I went more than a couple days without blood.

She fixed me with a look, as if to remind me that she was capable of keeping herself alive. “ _Yes,_ Father. Last night.”

I nodded back at her. “Good.” I wanted to press, to ask and pry until she told me everything. I didn’t. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” _Tell me what it is. Let me help you with whatever you’re feeling._

She slid off my desk and grabbed her bag. “Will do.” I kissed her head, and she turned to leave.

I moved some papers around on my desk. “I’ll say hi to Dad for you.” And she paused, hovering in the doorway. A moment later she turned back to me.

“Actually,” she said, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. “Could I come visit this weekend? I’ve finished all my homework.”

My heart swelled looking at her, asking me if she could come home as though Simon and I didn’t wish every day that she was there with us. “Of course,” I told her. “Come find me when you’re ready to go.”

She grinned, and nodded, and hurried out of the classroom.

 

 

SIMON

 

Winter was the best time of year at the bakery. We added all kinds of festive things to the rotation (a good three weeks before any other place because it’s _my_ bakery and _I_ got to decide) and I loved how everything smelled like cinnamon and cardamom and nutmeg. I loved the bakery. There was nothing like the methodical motions of mixing dough and rolling out pastries and watching peoples’ faces light up when you handed them something sweet smelling and hot from the oven.

It was Friday, which meant the weekend, which meant that Baz didn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn the next morning. Saturday mornings were for sleeping in and drowsy kisses. There was very little in the world that I enjoyed more than Baz’s voice, rough from sleep, grumbling at me to kiss him, goddammit.

I drove home past the children’s home, turning my head as I went by to do my daily check that it wasn’t on fire. Minutes later I parked in front of our building and headed up the stairs to the flat. I could hear laughter beyond the front door, so I was already grinning by the time I stepped inside and saw Baz and Ruby together in the kitchen. He was cooking, and she was perched on the counter, and they didn’t notice I’d come in until I’d already taken my shoes off.

“Dad!” Ruby called, hopping off the counter and running over to me. I caught her in a hug, squeezing her tight and grinning at my husband over her shoulder.

“Ruby’s here, by the way,” he said unhelpfully.

 

We all wound up in the living room sometime after dinner. Ruby and Baz were reading, him on the couch next to me and her laying sideways across her favourite armchair with her legs dangling over the side. I couldn’t bring myself to read, or even to turn on the TV or do anything else, I just laid my head on Baz’s shoulder and enjoyed the periodic sounds of turning pages.

Ruby had been quiet at dinner. She smiled and told stories about her friends and joked with us, but not to her usual extent. Baz shot me a look when she bent down to pick up a fallen napkin, instructing me silently to take note and ask him about it later. I watched her feet kick idly as she adjusted on the armchair, shifting her book to a comfier spot. It wasn’t school, I was fairly sure. Her grades were always stellar (not that it mattered in the least to me) and she’d always loved learning. What was on her mind? _Tell us,_ I willed her. We suffered in silence too much as teenagers. She was entitled to her feelings— no one got through their youth without a healthy dose of moping— but Crowley, it hurt to see her so subdued.

She looked up then, and caught my eye. I offered a smile and she returned it, blinking her eyes slowly and settling further into her ridiculous seat. Her hair was splayed on the armrest. Ruby looked so relaxed it was putting me to sleep. (Had she been relaxing, at school? Was she well rested? I was glad she was this comfy at home, at least.)

I lifted my head from Baz’s shoulder, and he glanced at me while I stretched.

“I’m off to bed, I think,” I said, and wordlessly Baz reached for his bookmark so as to follow me.

“Night,” Ruby said, looking up from her page. I bent over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Good to have you home,” I told her.

“Are you going to the bakery tomorrow?” she asked, out of the blue. Her expression was odd, big brown eyes almost pleading.

I nodded. “I’ll be there midday.”

“Can I come with you?”

When she was little she’d come with me to the bakery all the time. The staff loved having her around, and even would sometimes lift her up to the counter so she could cut out the sugar cookies. (We only made those when she was there. I’ve never been fond of them, but she delighted in pressing cookie cutters into the dough. Our regular customers always lit up when they saw them in the case, because they knew Ruby was behind them.) It was ages since she’d been.

“Of course. They miss you over there.”

She grinned and turned back to her book.

 

“What was all that about?” I asked while Baz brushed his teeth in the en suite. It was November and getting colder, so I tugged on an old t-shirt instead of sleeping in just my pants as usual. Baz came out of the bathroom while I passed by him to brush my teeth as well. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

“She was off during class today. I asked her about it but she said everything is fine.”

“Well of course,” I said, mouth full of toothpaste. Baz grimaced. “What was she going to do— unload everything on the spot and then go to her next class like nothing’s happened?”

“I don’t know,” Baz said. “She’s just not herself. I was hoping she’d tell you whatever it is, now that she’s home.”

I spat out my toothpaste and rinsed my mouth.

“Do you think that’s why she wanted to visit?” I splashed some water on my face and towelled it off.

“Maybe,” said Baz. He got up and grabbed a jumper off the back of a chair. He always froze when he slept. “I think it’s a _you_ issue, whatever it is.”

I sat on the bed, watching him hang up his trousers and jacket.

It was a long established fact, that Ruby came to us for different things. It was no surprise. I’d never had parents, but it was as clear to me as well as anyone that a kid’s relationships with their parents wouldn’t be identical. We loved her tremendously, and she loved us, but we were all different people and played different roles in each others’ lives. Like obviously, Ruby and Baz had being vampires in common. When she was terrified of it or hating what she was or enjoying her super-strength and Spidey-senses, she shared those feelings with Baz. Likewise, when she stumbled upon some aspect of her life that was unusual or skipped out on as a result of growing up in care, she took those issues to me. It was just about the only reason that I was grateful for having spent my whole youth in boys’ homes, that I could sympathize with my daughter and show her she wasn’t alone. We loved that we had certain things that she came to us with, loved that she trusted us in the various domains of her life.

“Maybe she’ll talk about it at the bakery tomorrow,” I mused.

Baz gave me a tired smile and flipped back the covers on his side. “I hope so. I hate to think she’s going through something alone.”

“Me too. We’ll help her, whatever it is.”

He nodded, staring blankly to the side and standing next to the bed. _Not_ where I wanted him to be.

I tugged him toward me by the front of his jumper. Amused, he settled onto the bed and softly touched my face while I kissed him. He chuckled against my mouth when I eased up over him to press him down flat into the pillows. An arm slid around my waist.

“Pull the covers up, will you?” he said once his mouth was free. I scowled at him. “It’s bloody freezing,” he added. He was smiling and it was beautiful, so I kissed his cheek before I reached to pull the covers over us. We settled in, holding the blankets close. I hugged him to me and he lay his head on my chest. I fell asleep with my lips in his hair.

 

The staff at the bakery welcomed Ruby joyfully, and set her to work right away rolling out dough. We worked side by side in comfortable quiet, hurrying around in sync like a well-oiled machine. We took a break in the afternoon, snagging a selection of treats off a hot tray and some coffee mugs from the front counter. We settled at the little bistro table by the front window and spread our goods out before us.

“These are my favourite,” Ruby muttered, biting into a blueberry danish. I grinned around my mouthful of scone (our specialty.)

“Cherry scones always make me miss Watford,” I said. “They were one of my favourite things about that place.”

Her eyes turned down at that, and she tore at her napkin while she ate. I nudged her coffee toward her (black, like mine, not loaded up with sugar and nineteen syrups like Baz.) (Gross.)

I didn’t pretend not to notice the change in her demeanour. “Everything all right, Ruby?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, just took a sip of her coffee and kept shredding the napkin. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I mean, yes. Yeah, everything’s all right. It’s just…” She didn’t look right at me, just kept staring around at her hands or the ceiling or out the window. I waited, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought in case she told me what was up.

“I’m just stressed,” she said into her mug. “Everyone is talking about what they’re doing after Watford even though it’s still a year and a half off, and I don’t know what I want to do— I don’t even have an _idea_ yet, and…”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. _That’s not it,_ I thought. _Please, love, just tell me._ Her expression was still wrong. There was something else.

She didn’t continue.

“You don’t have to have an idea yet,” I reminded her. “You don’t have to decide anything for a long time, and even once you do you can always change your mind. You don’t have to make decisions at the same time as everyone in your year.” She spun her mug slowly between her hands. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?” I said softly. “You can tell me, if you want. Or Father.”

She met my eyes, finally, and smiled ruefully. “I don’t think Father would want to talk about it.” He had been right, it was a me issue. Nonetheless I gave her a look, reminding her that Baz would _always_ be there to talk to her about anything. She blinked her concession.

“It’s stupid,” she said. “It’s really nothing.”

“But it’s bothering you,” I countered, “so it’s not nothing.” When she didn’t speak, I offered: “Can’t be stupider than anything I was upset about at your age.”

Ruby surprised me by huffing out an almost-laugh. Then her face abruptly crumpled, and her quiet words came out half-choked.

“I think I’m in love.” And she squeezed her eyes shut.

I fought an enormous smile while I dragged my chair over to her side of the table and wrapped my arms around her, letting her lean into me and be miserable. There was irony in the situation somewhere, I was sure of it.

“Tell me everything,” I murmured. And she did. She had a lovely group of friends at Watford, five of them who studied together and lounged around the grounds on weekends and found ways to trick the doors of Mummers’ House and the Cloisters so they could all visit each other without that regressive gender barrier. They were all great, they’d been over to visit more than once and Baz and I gloried in observing their banter and easy friendship. They were good kids. They all were aware of the standing offer to drop in on the Snow-Pitches at any time and for any reason, and we would be glad to have them or help them.

“It’s Noah,” Ruby said. _Ah._ The actor boy with the loud laugh and easy smile. (His performance as Marius in Watford’s most recent production had been unexpectedly moving.) “And nobody knows and I don’t think he has feelings for me and I love being his friend too and I don’t want to make things weird and—“ She cut off and hid her face behind her hand, still leaning on me. I stroked her hair.

“You know, Father actually knows way more about this than I do. I didn’t know I was in love with him until about two seconds before I kissed him the first time.”

She chuckled, and it sounded teary. “Sure, but he’s never comfy talking about that sort of thing.” She was right about that. Sometimes I knew he was feeling smitten because of the severity of his withering glares.

“You haven’t told Nadia?” I asked. She shook her head. “That might be a good place to start. She knows him best.” Nadia, Ruby’s roommate and closest friend, was Noah’s twin sister.

Ruby sighed. “I just feel….”

I nodded. “Too much. I’m familiar.”

She slumped against me for a while more, and I slowly relaxed with the knowledge that nothing truly awful was bothering my daughter. Not that lovesickness wasn’t awful, but she was safe, she was healthy, she had four loving friends. Baz would be relieved. Then again, he knew _exactly_ what she was going through, so maybe he wouldn’t.

“It’s a lot to be in love,” I said to the top of her head. “It’s wonderful, it’s the best thing. And it fucking sucks.” Then she full-on laughed, and straightened back up to reach for her coffee. Her cheeks were blotchy, but dry. “He’s lucky that you love him,” I murmured. “Even if he doesn’t know it.”

Ruby clutched her mug in both hands. “What do I do?” she all but begged.

What had Baz done? _Pushed me down the fucking stairs. Suffered in silence for at least three years. Loved and hated seeing my face every day._

“I guess…” I reached for my mug, too. “Be his friend. Show him you care. Tell someone so you’re not going it alone.” She chewed her lip. “Tell _him_ if you can, but don’t feel like you have to. Might save time, though.”

“I don’t want to know if he doesn’t feel the same,” she said. I put my hand on her shoulder.

“You’re so full of love, Ruby. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.” She almost smiled.

 

BAZ

It seemed so painfully simple as soon as Simon told me (with Ruby’s permission.)

A vampire named Pitch in love with someone oblivious? Funny how life repeats itself.

“Our poor girl,” I said. Ruby was in her room watching shows, and we were at the table whispering. “With who?” I asked.

“Noah,” Simon said. “Voice of an angel, heart of gold.” As if I didn’t know who Noah was. Our daughter had literally four friends.

“Thank Merlin,” I muttered. “He’s about the only boy in her year who isn’t an absolute twat.”

“What about Eli? Zachary?” The rest of her friends, and about fifteen accidents waiting to happen. Clearly my face conveyed as much, because Simon chuckled. (Zachary, actually, was perfectly sweet. Just nowhere near as brilliant as Ruby.) (Eli was a prick.)

Perhaps I would try to broach the topic with Ruby. Let her know a little of what was going on in my head at seventeen, that loving Simon very nearly killed me. That if only someone had pointed out to us that we were obsessed with each other, things _might_ have been easier. Or they might not have, we were the two most stubborn people I’d ever known, and Snow was thick as hell.

An idea blossomed in my mind. There were other things I could do to help, as well.

I mused aloud to Simon.

His plain-gorgeous-blue eyes went wide. “You are an evil genius. I fucking love you.”

 

Ruby drove back to Watford with me on Monday. We arrived early, so she could visit her room and unpack her weekend bag before her first class. And maybe tell her best friend that she was in love with said friend’s brother. I wished her luck.

Mid afternoon she filed in along with the rest of her peers for my class. We hadn’t finished with Shakespeare (it’s a right treasure trove for spells if you understand the themes in the plays) so I’d spent Sunday putting together the day’s activity.

“Good afternoon,” I wished the class. Ruby sat in the second row, and I consciously looked to her as regularly as any other student. We hadn’t spoken about anything yet, not since she’d told Simon, but we would smile at each other in a way that felt meaningful and shared. “Today we are continuing our work with Shakespeare’s most well-known texts. You will be randomly paired and assigned a passage to work on.”

Well, for the most part randomly.

“Read through the whole thing once together before you start.”

I was intrigued to see how Ruby’s actor friend would handle his role.

I set to work pointing to two arbitrary students and handing them the stapled scene at the top of my pile, watching for a certain one. I handed out scenes to students at random until the excerpt from Much Ado About Nothing was at the top of my stack. Few students remained.

I glanced up, feigning casual disinterest. “Noah and Ruby.”

Ruby’s level stare was a perfect facade for the daggers I could feel in her eyes, and she all but snatched the scene from my hands. I watched Noah pick up his book bag to join Ruby at her desk as I handed out the remaining scenes. They actually looked very appropriate together, very right. Those two were in for quite the hour, I was sure. Beatrice and Benedict were one of my favourite Shakespearean couples.

I relished in it, circulating the room while the class worked through their texts.

Noah (was he blushing?) brought surprising conviction to assigned reading.

 

Ruby lingered after class until the room was empty.

“I can’t decide whether I should hit you,” she said. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she hugged me instead.

“It’ll get better,” I promised her, whispering in her ear. “One way or another. But I promise you, it won’t hurt forever.”

“Thanks, Father,” she said.

 

The next time I taught that class, I informed them that the random partnerships had actually worked together so effectively that they would be each others’ permanent partners until the end of the term. For everyone’s maximum learning potential, of course.

Noah grinned at Ruby. She raised a cool eyebrow at him, a tiny smile on her lips. I was so proud.

**Author's Note:**

> The support for this series has been so kind-- thank you to each of you! I welcome suggestions for future installments.


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